


Waiting (Version I)

by EleanorK



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Caryl, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleanorK/pseuds/EleanorK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>As angry as he’d been all day, now it all drained away from him, and he just wanted her. Plain and simple, nothing else.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting (Version I)

**Author's Note:**

> Note: takes place between end of season 3, prior to season 4
> 
> Note: companion to Waiting (Version II)

Daryl preferred the early morning hunt, but not every day could he do it. As much as they tried to live by a schedule at the prison, shit still went pear-shaped against their best intentions. Today was some kid knocked over a boiling kettle of water and the resulting emergency of his burns was a sudden run to get more clean cloths and bandages.

But they still needed meat and so hear he was, just at sunset, waiting up in his stand for deer to come feed.

It was a good location. Near water, lots of trees & bushes. He could hear every branch snap and bramble snag on anything that moved. For a while he just picked off a couple random walkers, just to reduce his competition for the game. But then his mind wandered, as it did now. Never used to, but that was before Carol started coming to his bunk at night.

He was glad she was the one who started it. He didn’t know how to start shit like that. Especially with her. She was tougher than she looked, but still. Heartbreak being the thing that had leveled him in life; it seemed stronger to him than any of the rest of this shit they had to live with now.

That she came to him, a few weeks ago, tasting like the wine the women had passed around after dinner one night, had been such a miracle. Of luck. Or courage. He wouldn’t have done it. He thanked god for that wine.

The whole time, she'd said nothing. Just sat down on his bed, took off her boots, and fell over him. Perfect. Like a wet dream or something. Not that Carol had ever been like that, to him. She was pretty to him, but he'd avoided sex thoughts, with her. Even though she gave him shit about it; liked to tease him.

But when it came down to it, she was just like him. Silent. Physical. Just pressing herself to him and offering it up and of course, he couldn’t refuse. Even if she hadn’t taken his wrists and held them over his head while she kissed him, he wouldn’t have refused.

Just thinking of it up in this stand was giving him wood. _Fuck._

A squirrel scattered through the forest floor. Too skinny to bother. Tail not worth a shit. They were all getting that way.

He thought for a minute of Carol’s skin on his that first time. Her ribs poking out. But then her breasts under his palms. She took everything off, her stuff, his, too. Put it all in his hands. She didn’t say so but he learned quick; she liked to be in charge of everything. She liked to decide, when and where. He just waited in his bunk for her to decide it was time. Had to admit that every night she didn’t come to him, he was disappointed. And he wouldn’t even jerk off, because he never knew if she’d come later, and wanted to save it all for her. Which was probably dumb; probably he should have tossed off here and there so he’d be less itchy for her. But jerking off was nothing to being inside her. He didn’t want her to be disappointed, either. So he just held it all in. Waited. Saved it for her.

The sun was now directly in his eyes. He leaned against the tree. His back ached with all the sitting. He hated sitting.

The third time she came to him in the night, he had to say something, though. Ask her about birth control. He knew she and everyone else had their hands full with kids; he wasn’t going to risk that. Not now.

But he needn’t have asked.

“I take care of it, Daryl,” she'd said. “It’s all right.”

She’d been sitting on him when she said it. Riding his cock. They’d been on the floor because the bunk didn’t allow that position so well. Her idea to move there. The concrete was cold on his back but he didn’t give a damn. And he probably should have asked before but the moon shifted through the high windows at just that minute and he could see her face, perfect and clear, concentrating, her eyes closed as she went after what she wanted. She was very deliberate like that, anyway, with everything else. Made sense that she’d be serious about getting off, too, the same way.

Goddamn, did he have a hard-on now.

Overhead, a rush of birds, ravens by the looks, flushed up in a tree. He looked down and saw another lone walker. A man in a suit. He took him out, easy. Now he had a carcass pile at the bottom of the damn tree. Three of them. Any more and he’d have a liability; nothing living liked getting near the dead.

A couple weeks after all this started, he went to find her after the noon meal. She’d not only been not speaking to him in his bunk; things had dried up socially, too. Like she didn’t want anyone to know, be obvious about what was going on. She was mopping up the floor, busy as usual. She nodded at him, asked him how he was, what he was doing. He told her, but instead of it being easy and normal, they both stared right into each other’s eyes. He stared until she looked away and then someone else came in and that was that. He found that little exchange made him brave. That night, when she passed him by where he was cleaning a shotgun, he grabbed her ass and she turned red as a tomato and rushed out. Even though no one saw. At least he thought no one did.

That night she was fierce on him. Fiercer than normal. Like she was punishing him for the grab-ass or something. But then, just when it seemed like she’d been about to come, she slid down and sucked him off. Slow. Pure torture. Pure heaven.

“Jesus...shit...fuck,” he said. Which made no sense. She just laughed at him, though, her mouth still on his cock. And what could he do? He loved it. He loved everything she did to him. With him. He'd never had it so good with anyone.

After they finally finished – her having come half a dozen times to his one, which he was starting to think was some kind of bullshit unfairness on god’s part, really – she made moves like she wanted to get up, put her stuff on and leave. She never slept with him all night. He’d never asked her to; he never made one claim on her. And the bunk was narrower than shit, anyway. They’d never get a good night’s rest crammed together on it, even if he could stop himself from touching her to actually sleep.

“Hey,” he said, his hand on her thigh, pressing it down, not letting her up. She was always on top, it seemed, at the end. Not that he’d be complaining. He had full view of everything that way, could see her tits and her face and watch her hand slip down between them and jack herself off just when she wanted to. Sometimes she had him do it, though he was less sure of how that worked. He knew it took longer to pull off when he was in charge, that was for sure.

“What.”

“You don't ever talk to me.”

“I talk to you.”

“Not at night. And not much besides that.”

She shrugged, put her arms over her tits, which fetched them up higher. She had little tits, but goddamn did he love them. He could almost fit one of them whole in his mouth. Which she loved. Good thing, too.

“I don’t want people to think things,” she said, looking away.

“Don’t care what other people think,” he said. “And people gonna think things, anyway. Probably already are.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I ain’t stupid, Carol,” he said. “And only person I give a damn about what she thinks is you, anyhow. That’s why I’m asking you.”

She sighed. Scratched a bug bite on her arm.

“I feel shy, I guess,” she said.

“Didn’t used to be.”

“Well, I am now,” she said. “Can't you just give me that?”

“What you mean? What exactly you want me to give you?”

“Patience,” she said. “You know it hasn’t been easy for me. This kind of thing. Relationships.”

“You think that crap's easy for me, Carol? Good lord." He laughed. But she didn’t laugh with him.

“You don’t want me to come around anymore, I won’t,” she said.

“No, no, no,” he said, his hands around her hips, squeezing. Holding her to him. He felt like she might bolt if he didn’t. “Never said that.”

She nodded. She looked like she might be trying not to cry.

He reached up, pulled her hands from her tits, held them in his own hands.

“Ain’t nothing I look forward to more, than you coming to me like this,” he said. “It’s the best thing I got, you coming to see me.” And she smiled, kissed him. He held her against him for a bit longer, until she said she had to sleep. It seemed to be ending all good, all on a high note.

But it didn’t feel over, for him. He didn’t like hiding about this shit. Plenty of people had things going like theirs. People having spats, people coupling up; it was just part of life. And maybe he hadn’t been the greatest at that shit before, but he was damned if he’d be ashamed of it now. Of Carol. He didn’t give one shit who knew, that they were fucking or any of it. He didn’t see why it had to be anyone’s business, necessarily, but he didn’t see why it mattered if he talked to her. He just wanted everything now. For it to be like it was, before the sex started. He wanted to hear what was in her mind, still. He liked it when she told him stuff, even if it was worries. He wanted to fix what he could for her. He hadn’t been able to fix the worst for her, her dead piece of shit husband or her little girl getting lost and turning. But there was plenty he could do for her. Plenty.

He heard it, then below him. That hesitant step, the skitter of hooves. Deer. His skin tightened, heart raced. _Calm the fuck down,_ he thought. _Calm. Calm. Zen._ He lifted his bow, slow, so he could site the thing properly. Inhaled, slowly.

And there it was, a mama doe and a fawn. Stepping light around green of the forest floor, chewing on this or that.

Fuck. That fawn was little. Barely knew to work its damn legs. He couldn't take its mama away yet.

He supposed they all had to toughen up. Other hunters might have taken them both out. But he lowered his bow. Let that little one nurse longer and it’d grow up big. The doe and her baby side-stepped the geek carcasses and he felt desperate. He needed to bring something back. Told himself the bucks’ll be along shortly. Same watering hole. Same crap greens to chew. He had to be patient.

 _Patient._ Fuck. He was done with it. He’d tell her tonight. Move your shit in my bunk, woman, he’d say. That made him grin. All stupid and proud. Like she’d listen. Like she wouldn’t shrink up and wilt. Or maybe she’d smack him one, flat-out. He thought she had it in her, now. She knew what she liked and what she was done putting up with. She'd shown him enough she could be in charge and it wasn't like the phony seductive bullshit some women pulled in the sack. It was no show; it was balls to bone, all Carol.

But he was tired of waiting. Tired of wondering. It wasn’t about the sex, really. He didn’t need sex so much as he needed her, talking to him, keeping him normal, smiling at him. Just looking at him and touching him, all easy-like, just the way they did before. He wanted her there when he woke and there when he fell asleep. 

He knew he'd been living on his own for a long time. But damn. He wanted her, all of it. And he knew what that meant. What he’d need to tell her.

Branch snaps. Rustling in the brushes. Could be nothing but antlers. Three bucks clearing the creek, sure enough. He could see the water on their hooves, the fur dark and wet. He lifted the bow, sighted the middle one, the others being too big for him to carry out himself. And with the sun going down, he’d need every advantage.

_What if I tel her and she doesn’t say it back?_

The middle one turned, as if he heard something. Like he might bolt. The other two just chewed, clueless as cows.

_Doesn't matter. Just say it, you fucking coward._

He released the bolt, right in the middle buck’s eye. The other two now shot off into the trees. His buck sagged, fell down, made some awful sounds, shit itself. And he tucked his bow on his back and pulled out his knife. Ready to field-dress in a flash, in case he got surprised by walkers.

Down on the ground, he got to work. His knife slashing the belly of this deer, he felt like he might lose it in happiness. So certain and thrilled about this kill. It was a beautiful animal, thick and meaty. He’d keep the hide, too. The shot through the eye had been perfect, not marring a thing. He wiped his hands on his pants, not caring about the blood everywhere, fixed the ankles with zip-ties, and wrapped the thing in a sling to drag behind him. Pulling out his bolts from the walkers he'd killed, he felt like running, all the way home. Hoisting this big-ass buck on his shoulders and running. He was going to tell her and he was going to do it in front of the whole group if she didn’t let him get a minute alone. And he didn’t give one fuck if she said it back, because he was done living like that. Half-assed, starved, scared.

He ran into two walkers, which he took out with his knife. Happy to whack them out of his way.

Back at the gate, he saw her. Filling up the water buckets from the ditch they’d dug. Her shirt rucking up as she squatted down, the knife on her belt in the center of her back. He wanted to knock her down and her take her right there. But instead he just called her name and she flinched, turned.

Then stood and softened, squinted in the fading light, her hand over her eyes. “Daryl?”

He looked at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Just looking at the buck he dragged behind him. Sizing it up for dinner, probably. Couldn’t blame her.

And then he couldn’t say it. He was so sure, but then she was calling across the fence for someone to open up and everyone was around, up his ass, helping him with the buck back inside. Slapping his back, smiling. He turned to find her in the crush, and she was there in front of the storage area, handing him a bucket of soapy water and telling him dump his bloody clothes in it.

“I can put some water on to boil, if you want to wash yourself,” she said. 

He wondered if that was flirting. But she said it so straight. Not looking at him, just figuring out her next steps, for the meat, for the meal, for who to boss into doing what.

“Cold shower’s fine,” he said, grabbing a towel from the stack behind her, one of the grey scratchy prison ones. 

She looked at him, then, like he was crazy. He stripped off his shit, then, right there, tossing all his crap in that bucket of water, and, staring at her still as her face turned bright red again. He stalked off to the showers.

A cold shower wasn’t his favorite, but he was hot and filthy, and he could use cooling down in more ways than one. He needed to get it through his head; she didn’t feel that way toward him; she just wanted to get off. Fuck him. Have her woman’s secrets. She didn’t need the hassle of his babies, she didn’t want the hassle of him under her charge, too. He washed up under the dribbling cold spray, soaping his hair twice because it was starting to mat up in the back.

Once back in his bunk, he saw she’d left out fresh clothes for him. A pair of red boxer shorts. He never liked to wear underwear, period. But he sure as hell would never wear boxer shorts. And red ones. Fucking Christ. It was like she was his mom or something. But he put it all on and went down to eat; someone had done something good with the meat he'd brought back, which made him happy again.

But Carol was nowhere around. He sat with his bowl of soup – someone’d boiled some of the meat for stock and it was delicious – and looked around. Distracted when Rick thanked him, congratulated him for the buck. Watching for the clusters of women, looking to see her. Was she with the kids? Sometimes they fed the little ones separate; it was less of a hassle. But generally, she came into the main eating hall, too.

He yanked Beth’s shirt sleeve as she passed.

“Seen Carol?”

“Yeah,” she said, and then shut her mouth quick.

Funny, he thought. Were they all in on something? Beth looked at him, her mouth pinched to the side. Yeah, she knew what was up.

“Where’d you see her?”

“She was just here, a second ago…” Beth wandered off. He wanted to smash his fist into something. He’d been scanning the room like crazy; he’d have known. He finished his food and got up from the table, leaving his bowl and spoon like a slob. Didn’t give a shit anymore. He wanted to go back to his bunk to sulk. But then Glenn said they had to talk about the next day’s run, because Rick has some stuff he needed to ask about. Fucking Christ. He sat back down and lit a cigarette, blew it all over the place, even though people didn’t like smoke in the common areas. _Fine. Don’t like it,_ he thought. _Stay the fuck away if you don’t._

They talked over the run, but Daryl was barely listening. He tried not to scan the room for her, but he did anyway. Once Rick asked him if he was okay. He nodded, chewed on his thumbnail. Didn’t give one shit. They’d made this particular run in bad weather, cold weather, with less thought than this a dozen times before. This was Rick being careful, listening to everyone, giving up his role as chief. Well, Daryl didn’t want that, either. 

Finally, he went back to his bunk. Exhausted and pissed. And he stripped down to those dumb red boxers and laid there in the heat. Waiting. Like some kind of bored kept woman. Waiting. With a goddamn boner. Like a kid. He thought about jerking it. Could still hear people talking and moving around the cellblock. Fuck that. He wished for whiskey. For anything. For just a little sleep, even.

The moon was big, rising, right in his eye from the high windows. Nothing was going his way, really. Once things quieted down for the night, he fucking jerked it, then. It was lousy, felt a fraction of what it was with Carol, but goddamn. At least, there was sleep afterwards. Though it wasn’t restful. Few hours later, he was awake again. Sweating and staring at the coils of the top bunk. Pissed.

He stood up, stuck his feet into his boots. He never slept like that, in his underwear, or naked, either. He was always prepared for shit. Prepared to run. But goddamn, she’d fucked with him. He got up and stalked up the stairs, trying not to bang anyone awake. Came to her cell. She had a yellow sheet tacked up, for privacy; all the women did. As much as he wanted to rip it down and barge in, it made him stop.

Standing there in red underwear and boots, wild as a fucking buck in heat. The hell did he think was gonna happen?

Hadn’t been thinking at all.

He lifted the sheet, slowly. Said her name.

“Yes,” he heard. Then he stepped in. She was in her bunk, covers over her. He could see her shoulders, her tank shirt, thin and white around her collarbone.

As angry as he’d been all day, now it all drained away from him, and he just wanted her. Plain and simple, nothing else.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she said back.

“Wondered where you’d been,” he said. “Didn’t see you after supper.”

She didn’t say anything.

He walked in, sat down on the bunk. He felt ridiculous, in those damn boxers. His boots unlaced.

He reached over, ran his hand down her shoulder. So soft. She shivered and he could see goose-bumps on her skin.

“Was waiting for you,” he said, his voice low. “Why didn’t you come?”

“I…” she stopped. “I don’t know.”

He kissed her. “It’s okay.”

She nodded. Kissed him back. She opened up the covers and let him in. And soon his hand was down her panties and he was ready to forgive everything. He didn’t care. He was blind. Stupid. Desperate. Out of his mind for wanting everything he had no business wanting.

But he’d get off, goddammit. And no waiting for that this time. No hands above his head, helpless. He flipped her on her belly and took her from behind and once he was all the way in her, she damn near wailed loud enough to wake the dead.

“Oh Daryl,” she said. “Oh, god.”

 _Damn right,_ he thought. _Go ahead and give me the top billing, girl._ He plowed into her, the bunk creaking like crazy, and even though he’d just yanked it, he felt himself about to go off, anyway. And her not even done yet. He’d not even given a shit about it. And continued not to, just letting go with a shout and then collapsing beside her.

He waited to catch his breath. She was curled away from him, but he was flush to her back, one hand on her tits. Feeling better. Still a little crazy, but better.

“My bunk is so noisy,” she said, softly.

“Little bit,” he said. “I’ll get some of that spray, in the storage area.Takes cares of it.”

“That deer was big,” she said.

“First year buck. Lots of good meat.”

“Skipped dinner. Hope there’s some tomorrow.”

“Will be,” he said. “Was just a stew tonight.”

She reached up, started stroking the hand he held over her tits. Absent-minded, lazy-like. Strange, since she hadn't gotten off. He felt ashamed of himself for that, for being greedy and not waiting. She kept silent for a long while. Maybe she was thinking the same thing.

Finally she said, “Was worried when you didn’t come back right away. You said you’d be back before sunset.”

“I was,” he said.

“Still,” she said. “I worried.”

“Can’t do nothing about that, Carol. Shit takes as long as it's gonna take.”

“I know, but...”

“I’m in love with you,” he interrupted, pressing his palms across her ribcage, pulling her tighter. “You gotta know it.”

“Daryl.”

“And I don’t want to fucking wait all night for you, anymore,” he said. It was all gushing out; he couldn’t stop it. “I want to have you in my bunk every goddamn night, whether we fuck or not. Go to bed with you. Wake up with you. It’s not the fucking. It’s you. I want you for mine. To be mine.”

“Daryl…” Rolling over to face him.

“And I don’t care who knows,” he said, his hands brushing into her hair, curling around her ears. “And I don’t care if you feel the same way back. I just can’t go on like this. All this goddamn not knowing. We got enough of that around here, don’t you think?”

She looked down, then. Tears. He felt like a dick. Like he was yelling at her for not loving him or something.

“Daryl, think about this. Because, I don't sleep. Not well. I can't at all, some nights."

"Okay."

"And I have awful dreams, Daryl. I wake up in a sweat. Can't go back to sleep. Don't know where I am."

 _Who doesn't,_ he thought. But he just pulled her in closer, his palms solid on her back.

"I mean, how will you even get to sleep? It's asking a lot, what you want. For both of us. Because there's not enough room, and what if..."

"I'll figure it out," he said. "Won't take nothing to fix."

"But..."

"I can handle it," he said. Wiping away her tears. “It’s settled, then?”

She nodded.

"All right," he said. "Good."

"You know, that's why I came to your bunk in the first place," she said. "I was going crazy, not sleeping. Feeling like I was seeing things. Just couldn't let it take me over, sleep. So, I thought it'd distract me. That it would, you know. Relax me.

"And did it?" He laughed, pressing tighter to her.

"Of course it did," she said, a little half-smile twisting across her face. "Why'd you think I kept coming back?"

“Thought maybe you liked me or some dumbass thing," he said, dipping his head low to kiss her tits.

"I slept like a baby every night afterward," she said. "I couldn't give it up. But it made me feel weird. Like I was using you."

She laughed, but he was serious. “Once you started coming to me, it was all over for me. I ain't been the same since. You had to know that, girl.”

“I’m no girl, Daryl.”

“Good thing, too,” he said. “Ain’t no girl got it in her to put up with my shit, that’s for sure.”

“You’re just a little salty sometimes,” she said. “It’s not a big thing.”

He laid himself over her. Feeling turned-on again. Kissing her stomach.

“Where’d you get that damn underwear?” he asked. “Yall know I don’t bother with it.”

“Beth found it; it was kind of a joke. I didn't think you'd wear it. I do the damn laundry around here, you know. Even if you don't bother to toss yours into the heap that often. I still notice things.”

“What was the point, then?” He hooked his tongue into her belly button. She shivered.

“Maybe it was just...” she said, catching her breath, as he lowered down to her pussy and started sucking at just the spot he knew she liked. “Maybe I just wanted…”

He looked up. “Wanted what?” He grinned.

She glared at him. He licked her again, dead-on center. She groaned.

“Maybe I wanted you show up wearing them and nothing else.”

“Shut up.”

She laughed, and so did he.

“So what if I did,” she said, leaning up on her elbows. “What are you gonna do about it?” Bossy Carol now. A glint in her eye.

He ran his knuckles through her the soft warmth, licked his fingers, one at a time. She inhaled, deep, her nipples getting tight, her hands around his head, running through his hair.

“Same thing I’m gonna do, anyway, darling,” he said, lowering his mouth again and sucking until she gasped and arched her back. "Nothing but sweet dreams from here on out."

 

 


End file.
